


Yours.

by xerxezra



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Angst, F/M, Smut, Sorry Not Sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-21 20:12:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14292537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xerxezra/pseuds/xerxezra
Summary: "...Truly, know that you really don't needTo be in love to make love to me…"- Cigarettes After Sex





	Yours.

You were sound asleep, riding on the high of comfortable sheets and hazy, fleeting dreams. The early hours of the morning shrouded everything in darkness, and weak moonlight streamed past the gaps of blinds to run monochrome streaks against your prone figure. 

It was this peaceful stillness that Rick corrupted, the color of his sickly green portal tearing past your eyelids and forcing you into abrupt wakefulness. You twitched in shock at the intrusion and groaned as you pulled yourself up to glare at his form, chasing away the remnants of sleep by rubbing your eyes. 

“What do you want, Rick?” You whispered in agitation, but your words flitted past the quiet emptiness of space to fall on deaf ears. 

He stood at the foot of your bed, a figure of shadows and streaked light illuminating the gaunt features of his face. But when you met that cold, dead stare, you immediately knew something was wrong. 

A shiver ran down your spine. He was silent, barely breathing, watching your every step like a predator, like a cornered animal as you pulled away the bedsheets and padded your way closer to him. 

It was only when you were inches away from him when you noticed the blood smeared across his torso in inky blotches. You brought your hand up to caress the side of his cheek, thumb wiping away an errant stain colored dim red in the moonlight. His gaze stayed on you all the while, eyes wide and blazing as they traced every feature of your face. Still silent, still unmoving, a beacon of tense energy poised to strike in unpredictable ways. 

But you knew Rick. You knew he wouldn’t hurt you. At least not too much. 

“Are you okay?” you asked softly, bringing up your other hand to lay flat against his chest. The erratic beating of his heart thudded against your palm, as if wanting to escape, as if asking you to tear it out of him. You stroked up and down instead, hoping the comforting gesture would calm him for at least a moment. 

It didn’t. His hand shot out to grasp your own in a viselike grip, and he dragged you against him with an arm around your waist. But you did not falter nor gasp, so used to being manhandled by this volatile man. You calmly looked at him, waiting for his next move.

“Ask me again,” he rasped, almost _pleaded_. 

“A-are you o —“ You broke off in a pained whimper as his hand tightened its hold on your wrist.

He brought his face closer to yours, so close you could feel every angrily exhaled breath. “ _Ask. Me. Again._ ”

You went silent for a heartbeat, quick enough to search his face for a clue, for any _hint_ of explanation. Quietly you whispered, _what do you want?_ And that had been the right answer. 

His manic countenance fell away, and your heart clenched at the almost tender way he looked at you. This didn’t shock you — Rick always had a certain melancholy to his moods when he drank too much. What did shock you was the distinct lack of alcoholic smell on his breath as he released your wrist to grip the hairs on the nape of your neck, bringing your lips so close together, yet still it felt so far _away_. 

“I _want_ you,” he answered, and your lips collided in a heated exchange of tongue and teeth and desperation and _yes_ , this was the Rick you knew, _this_ was the passion that kept you burning bright for him for so long, despite his many faults. 

You clutched the lapels of his dirty lab coat, pulling him ever closer to you to bask in the radiating heat of his wiry body. His presence was everywhere, hot and all-consuming, demanding your entire focus. His rough hands ran along your naked thighs, bunched up the fabric of your oversized shirt, and hurriedly peeled if off your body to suck bruising open-mouthed kisses along your neck and collarbones. Belatedly, you realized his hands were disgustingly bloody, but that certainly was no deterrent. The two of you had done far worse things. 

Rick gripped you like a lifeline, pushing you backward until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed and suddenly he was above you, arms framing your overheated face. You hardly got a glimpse of the torrent of emotions coloring his expression before he turned his attention to your breasts, suckling on each nipple until they were stiff peaks. 

The pulsing heat of arousal could no longer be ignored, and your legs wrapped around his slim waist to drag him even closer to you, grinding your wet cunt on the hardness straining against tight fabric. You felt Rick’s moan reverberating through your chest, shooting straight down to the tips of your toes. He rutted and panted against you, licking a path up the side of your neck to nibble on an ear lobe. 

You gripped the back of his lab coat, and suddenly the need to feel his naked skin against yours became entirely overbearing. “Off, now,” you commanded, pushing the offending fabric off his shoulders. He grunted, rearing up to quickly remove it along with his shirt before wrapping his arms under and around you, seeking out your eager mouth for more frantic kisses. 

But it still wasn’t enough. Rick seemed intent on prolonging the moment, so you acquiesced, melting into his embrace. 

You knew just how to play him. You had a role to play, after all. One did not simply manage to keep Rick around without knowing his needs. 

And suddenly the comforting heat of him disappeared, a chill permeating the air washing over your skin like an unwanted blanket. Your eyes searched for him in the dark, pupils dilated and honed in on him briskly kicking off his trousers and underwear, erection bobbing invitingly at you. 

You licked your lips in anticipation, but Rick had other ideas. 

He grabbed your hips to pull you to the edge of the bed, kneeling down between your thighs, a broken man seeking penance at the altar, and you whispered his name like a benediction as he started licking broad swipes along your core. He took his time to suck and bite along your inner thighs until your hips buckled upwards impatiently, seeking out that talented tongue to where you needed it most. You could feel his smirk against your skin, the comforting heat of his mouth as he finally granted your wish, swirling his tongue slowly yet deliberately around your clit, hands holding your legs outward as wide as possible to get a good view. 

You could barely restrain your mewling, desperate to relieve the tension building up inside you.

“So fucking _good_ ,” he panted against your soaked pussy. “Y-you taste so fu — so good, kitten. Christ, _I’ll never forget this taste_. Be — be a good girl for me, baby. _Come for me_.” 

And just like that, you reached that delicious peak that Rick had an ungodly talent for forcing out of you. You would always give him what he wanted, like a conditioned response to the heady pleasure of his praise and adoration for submitting. 

He pressed one last kiss against your now-sensitive cunt, murmuring as he crawled back up your body, “Mmm, that’s my good little slut. You ready for my cock, baby girl?” You whimpered when he ground his thick length against your folds. “ _Tell me,_ tell me you want this.” 

Your arms and legs wrapped around him like a cage, fingers carding through that wild mane of hair as you brought him down for a kiss. “Give it to me, Rick, _please_ ,” you whispered against his lips, and an aching groan tore through his throat. 

He rammed his cock deep inside you in one swift movement, mouth pressed tightly against your own to stifle your cry of pain. God, it _hurt_ , but it hurt so good, and you knew that. With every rough thrust and grind against your hips, you knew it would soon fade away to pleasure, because Rick was the greatest high you’d ever get. And that’s why you were his, right? Completely and utterly addicted to the pain of him. 

He set a brutal pace almost immediately, grunting and groaning as he pumped into you balls deep. You could only cling to him, sucking on the spot at the junction of his neck and shoulder that you knew made him weak. A hand came around on your outer thigh to lift your hip, and the new angle made you cry out in ecstasy as he hit that spot inside you over and over again. 

Rick wouldn’t look at you, though. His head was thrown back to bare his neck at you, and while the sight was tantalizing, tonight felt different somehow. You needed more.

Through the darkness you sought out his complete attention, hands caressing his face to look down on you. And in that moment when your eyes met his, eyes that were half-lidded and pupils blown wide open from pleasure, everything seemed to come to a standstill. 

You bit back a whine as his hips slowed, knowing that Rick’s control of the situation was absolute. But that lustful expression faded into something akin to morose, almost contemplative, and for the first time since knowing him, you couldn’t understand his mood. 

You lay still and enjoyed the throbbing heat of his erection still situated deep inside you. Even in your hazy confusion, you were loathe to break the silence. Rick’s actions always spoke louder than words anyway. 

His attention shifted to your body, fingers tracing over the parts where he had gripped you so desperately a heartbeat ago. He seemed so concentrated on his task that you couldn’t help looking down yourself, only to realize his fingers were smearing through bloody handprints swiped across your skin. You were covered in blood — _whose blood?_ — and the depravity of it all made you clench around him. 

If Rick noticed your little act of rebellion, he certainly didn’t show it. That haunted moroseness returned in full force, twisting his face into an achingly pained expression that shocked you in its sincerity. 

You whispered his name as softly and gently as the fingers that came up to card through his hair. Was this what he needed — unconditional comfort? 

He leaned into your touch with closed eyes, melting over your body like a rolling wave. Gone was the heated roughness that was so familiar to you; he moved slowly, _deliberately_ , grinding against your swollen clit, unconcerned with his own release. You found each other in an embrace you could only describe as _tender_ , hands running along feverish skin and bodies entwined as close as possible, each thrust of his hips like a brushstroke, painting the blood between you in a grotesque portrait of passion.

His face was pressed into the side of your neck, and you basked in the sounds of his panting moans, the heat of his breath and the teasing touch of his lips against your skin, close enough to kiss and yet not quite _there_. 

And among the cacophony of your vocal pleasure, almost lost in the whimpers and sighs and the creaking bedsprings, broke through a whispered confession. 

_I love you._

Your heart stopped. 

_Oh baby, I love you so much._

_I’m so sorry._

You forced his head away from your neck to look at him, and as the moonlight raced across Rick’s face, you could have sworn his eyes shimmered with unshed tears. 

But your questions would go unanswered. His lips were on yours at once, unrelenting in their assault to steal your breath, to taste you like it would be the very last chance to do so. You couldn’t think, lost and swept up in the turmoil of his emotions. Yet still you met every rough thrust, fought back against every kiss with equal vigor, riding high on all the things left unspoken yet felt through the bruises of love bites, the scratches torn into each other’s skin, the slickness between your thighs, the building, pulsing heat of desire, and bursting pleasure of release as you swallowed each other’s cries.

You lost track of how long the two of you relaxed in the glow of postcoital bliss, Rick’s head pressed against your chest as you stroked along the ridges of his spine. Just when the temptation of sleep crept up on you, Rick slowly extracted himself from your embrace and slinked around the room to retrieve his clothes. His silence stung, but this was Rick, and you knew better than to confront his sudden coldness.

“You’re leaving again?” You strained your eyes to see him nod while he briskly put on his clothes. “I’ll…see you later, right?”

“…Yeah.” 

And whether it had been a trick of the eye or not, Rick appeared to still for a moment. Hope swelled in your chest like the worst kind of poison, quick to spread and quick to sting.

He stepped through the reopened portal without so much as a backward glance. You wondered if you should have told him you loved him, too. 

But Rick was gone now, and it was too late for regrets. 

You were on your way to the bathroom to get cleaned up before a rumbling, intermittent sound caught your attention. It reverberated through the stillness of the air, and you softly padded down the hallway to gently push open the door that led to Rick’s room. 

There he was, sprawled out across his dingy cot and huffing out loud snores. 

Rick _never_ snored. Not unless he was drunk. 

You quietly padded inside to look down on him. Naked apart from the trussed up blankets strewn haphazardly across his lap. Lab coat tossed over the bedside table. Not a spot of blood to be seen.

_Whose blood was on you?_


End file.
